


Rabbit and Wolf

by orphan_account



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I hate myself, M/M, Ragnar bashing?, The timeline is all wonky, and i haven't gone to bed yet, and me coming back later to fix it up, but i wrote him as a bad guy here, dark!Ragnar, expect typos, he's a piece of shit in this, i like him in the show, it is ten thirty in the morning, my first contribution to any fandom, sorry - Freeform, the document name for this on my laptop was "what have i done", the first fanfiction i've ever written and it's noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ragnar attacks Athelstan. Everyone tries to figure out what to do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this. As the tags say, this is my first ever written fanfiction. My first ever contribution to fandom, after a decade of lurking. And it's rape/noncon. Please heed the warnings. There is graphic rape in this chapter.

With the sound of rustling fabric that echoes in the still bedroom, Ragnar shoves Athelstan's trousers out of the way. Athelstan gasps in shock, his mind a confused whirl of 'what is he doing' and 'you know exactly what he is doing' and 'but why would he'-  
"Ragnar! Stop!" He finally remembers how to speak, remembers that Ragnar is his friend, they are friends and surely Ragnar will stop once he realises that Athelstan does not want this, does not consent to this, that he is scaring Athelstan and hurting him, surely he will stop. He grasps at his King's fondling hands, tries to pull them away from his body. "You're hurting me! Ragnar, just-!"  
Ragnar's only response is to move Athelstan against the wall, push his knee between his legs, and cover Athelstan's mouth with his hand, silencing his pleas with bruising force. The back of his head smacks against the wall with a dull thump and a sharp pain. Athelstan's eyes go wide, and he scrabbles at Ragnar's wrist with one hand, his other gripping the collar of Ragnar's tunic, trying to meet his eye, trying to figure out how to stop this madness, how to let his friend know that this is wrong, all wrong.  
Ragnar will not meet his eyes, but Athelstan can see something glinting in them, as Ragnar, with his free hand, goes to unbuckle his own belt, and it is a glint he has seen before. It is hunger. It is lust. And suddenly, as if he were standing on thin ice atop a frozen river that finally cracked under his own weight, Athelstan understands what is happening.  
Ragnar does not care that Athelstan does not want this. He is going to force him.  
The sudden realization causes a spike of white-hot fear. It starts in his gut, like a stab wound, and travels to his heart, then to his mind and ensnares it with tendrils of terror, and he makes a low noise deep in his throat. It sounds muffled behind Ragnar's large hand. He yells again, as loud as he possibly can. It hurts his throat, but he doesn't care, it doesn't matter, he just needs to get his hand off his mouth, and his scrabbling turns to clawing, an attempt to draw blood. Ragnar makes a frustrated noise, a quiet exhale, as if Athelstan were a particularly difficult-to-wrangle goat that refused to be shepherded into its pen. He shoves impossibly closer to him, his body flush against his own, his knee actually lifting Athelstan from the ground a bit, and finally gets his own trousers unlaced. Athelstan gives up on freeing his mouth, and scratches at Ragnar's face with both of his hands, goes for his eyes, kicks his legs out at him. Ragnar flexes the hand that covers his mouth, grasps his entire jaw, and attacks the wall with the back of Athelstan's head, once, twice-  
Everything goes fuzzy. There is no more pain. It's like looking at the world through water, as if he were in the frozen river and looking above to the outside. Fuzzy. Whirly. Ragnar's face, but not his face. It can't be his face. He's never seen him look so ugly.  
Reality snaps back into focus, everything sharper and clearer. His head pounds in time with his rabbit-fast heartbeat. He is now laying on something hard and wooden. He can see the roof. Ragnar is between his legs, and has wrapped one of them around his waist. His right hand pins one of Athelstan's wrists to the... table(?). With renewed panic, Athelstan lets go of all his doubts about what the possible aftermath of this situation could be. He doesn't care that Ragnar is King. He doesn't care that he is his friend. He cannot let this happen. He will not. He hits Ragnar's face with his fist, as hard as he possibly can, tries to shove him away, making noises that are a cross between desperate begging and a wounded animal. He thinks he might be sobbing. His cheeks feel wet, salty tears running down his temples to pool in his ears. Ragnar barely flinches. Useless rabbit paws batting at a wolf. Ragnar must deign him harmless, because he lets go of his wrist, and spits in his hand, and rubs it over his- and then Athelstan feels something prodding his- he feels Ragnar- he feels-  
"NO!"  
Athelstan shoves again with all his might, his forearms digging at Ragnars chest and neck and face, but it's not enough, it's not enough.  
"Ragnar, please!" He sobs. "It's me! It's Athelstan!"  
Ragnar finally looks back at him, eyes wide with... something. He doesn't know anymore. He pushes inside.  
He squeezes his eyes shut, screams, and Ragnar covers his mouth again, but he keeps screaming, screaming and sobbing, and trying to tell him to stop, please, Ragnar please, please stop. But it's muffled, and he can't move, it hurts so much, he is being torn apart from the inside out as Ragnar grunts loudly, his brow furrowing, and tries to seat himself inside of him fully, and he can feel his skin tearing, a rabbit being eviscerated by a wolf. Athelstan's eyes snap back open, and his attempts to push him away become feral, his head snapping from side to side, to try and dislodge Ragnar's hand, tries to lodge his thumbs into his eyesockets. Ragnar lets go of his mouth, wraps his fingers around his throat, and cuts off his air. Athelstan's eyes turn pleading as he wraps both his hands around the hand that is choking him. Ragnar's face starts to swim out of focus, even as it moves closer to his own, bending over him, a slight grin ticking the corner of his mouth up. He looks triumphent. Once more, he pushes at his face with one hand, scrabbles at his wrist with the other. Tries to tell him to stop again, but it just comes out as a choked whimper, as Ragnar slides even further inside him. His ears start to ring...  
Suddenly, Ragnar's face snaps to the side and he lets go of Athelstan's throat, straightens his back, and pulls out of him. He sucks in a rattling breath, and the exhale sounds like a cross between gagging and a ragged sob. Before he can look at what has caught Ragnar's attention, Ragnar is violently dragged away from him, and he is so grateful that he has stopped, that this has all finally stopped, that he doesn't think he cares how, or why. Without Ragnar to hold him in place on the table, he slides gracelessly to the floor. He can hear shouting, and see rough, jagged movement out of the corner of his eye. The voices sound familiar.  
"Bjorn?" He wants to ask, but no sound comes out of his mouth.  
Suddenly there is a large, (larger than Ragnar's) gentle hand on his shoulder, feather light. He still flinches, and curls in on himself.  
"Athelstan?"  
Torstein?  
The shouting fades away. He thinks it has moved to another part of the hall. More voices join in. He cannot open his eyes. Does not want to open his eyes.  
"It's all right now, Athelstan." Says a warm, yet gruff voice. He is sure it is Torstein, but he cannot imagine why he is here, where something so terrible has happened, cannot associate the man with what Ragnar just- what Ragnar tried to- what Ragnar did-  
Something is draped over his lower body. He thinks it's a fur. He tries to lift his torso off the floor with his arms, but they shake too much. He is barely able to lift himself before he falls back to the ground. He suddenly feels ashamed. Tears still make their way down his cheeks, but he can no longer make a sound from his abused throat.

Later, after Athelstan is helped to his feet, after his injuries are tended to, after he tells Lagertha, and then Aslaug, what had happened, what had led up to it, and seeing the icy rage in Lagertha's eyes, and the stone-faced guilt in Aslaug's, after Bjorn goes to him and apologizes, agony and guilt in his eyes, guilt on his father's behalf, after everything, Athelstan will ask from the healer's bed:  
"What is to happen now?"  
Lagertha looks at him. There is no guilt. Only sadness. And Athelstan realizes, nothing will be done. Nothing can be done. Ragnar is King. They cannot stop him. Only delay. They could assign a guard to Athelstan, day in, day out. But with just a word, Ragnar would dismiss them. They would have no choice but to obey.  
"You could learn how to fight."  
The suggestion comes from Rollo, of all people. Athelstan hadn't even noticed him hovering in the doorway.  
It seems a logical enough idea at the time.  
Until, a few days later, when Bjorn is teaching him how to use a shield, with Torstein and Arne watching from the sidelines, that they all realize that Athelstan will never be as good a fighter as Ragnar. And they all also realize at seemingly the exact same moment, that it would probably only make it more sporting for Ragnar.  
Rabbit and wolf.  
Athelstan drops his shield, and leaves the training grounds.  
Nobody stops him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Edited a little bit. I don't have a beta reader.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll see you all in Muspelheim. I think I'll make another chapter. I honestly have no idea how long this will be, or how sporadic updates will be, or where exactly the plot is going. This just grew inside my head and I decided to post it. Just. I just. I dunno. It's fine. Bye. Sorry again. Bye. Also, yes, I know Arne is dead by the time Ragnar is King, but guess what, i don't give a shit. I need him to be here. It's fanfiction. It's FINE.


End file.
